Astral Romance
by palindromical
Summary: A collection of several HPxDM oneshots based on songs by the band Nightwish. WIP. Rating subject to change.
1. Angels Fall First

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter., nor do I own any Nightwish songs or lyrics, though I worship the people who do on hands and knees.

A/N: If you aren't familiar with Nightwish, you really ought to be. They're my absolutely positutely favourite band ever. In any case, this is the first of several short Draco/Harry themed one-shots that I've written based on various different songs of theirs. Most of them are pretty darkish, but not overly.

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Angels Fall First

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I sit by your grave, a single red rose in my hand. I brush the dark, nearly black petals against my lips and close my eyes, silently wishing that I could laugh at the cliché. Gently, I lay the flower down on the freshly turned up soil and sit back on my heels. I feel as if I should say something, anything, but I quickly shake the feeling. You are gone, and there is nothing to say. Everything that I could, should, would have said has vanished along with you. Others will cry for you, but I know that the tears are useless and would be unwanted. You always wanted people to be happy. That is, after all, why you fought this war. To deliver us from Voldemort's reign of terror. To allow us to live on in peace, to grow up, to grow old, to make way for new generations, to continue the cycle of life. How were you to know that, in granting us a life of freedom, your own life would be spent?

I never understood how you were so devoted to your cause. It seemed strange to me that you could be so selfless. I fought for you, yes, but I fought for _you_. Or, rather, to keep you with me. I couldn't bear to lose you, and I knew that, no matter what else I might do for you, you could never love me if I didn't support you in this one thing. Still, it seems that, in the end, I lost you anyways.

You talked, sometimes, of how things would be after the war. How we would live together, no more secrets and no more hiding. We would have a house, you said, and maybe even adopt a child. I would smile and shake my head, for I maintained that I hated children. I never told you, perhaps I never truly realized, how much I wanted the future that you described.

I remember the way you looked the first time you told me that you loved me. Your smile was so warm and so beautiful, and the way the sun lit up your face made you look like an angel. I kissed you, and held you in my arms, but I never told you that I loved you back. Somehow, I couldn't bring myself to do it. You'll never know how much I regret my silence.

I stand now, and brush the dirt and grass from my trousers. I turn to leave, to start a new chapter of my life, but I cannot help but look back. The moonlight shines down, illuminating your simple gravestone, and for a moment I entertain the idea that you are watching me, from somewhere high above. _I love you, my Guardian Angel,_ I whisper, just in case.

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I'd love a review, if you're in the mood.


	2. Come Cover Me

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I own any songs or lyrics by Nightwish, though sometimes I wish I did.

A/N: This song is one of the many Nightwish songs that make me cry. I'm a dork, I know, and cry at everything, but still. It's a really sweet song.

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Come Cover Me

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In the stillness before the final battle, in the oppressive darkness that foreshadows something no one wants to remember, they cling together, as if their very lives depend on it. And perhaps they do. Perhaps the warmth of a familiar body is the only thing that keeps away the endless flood of incapacitating tears. Perhaps the brush of a loved one's kiss is the only thing that stops the fear that threatens to cripple and freeze. And if it makes them forget other things, like wrong and right and restraint, then it can't be helped. Better to have regrets in the morning than to fear, for fear makes one stumble and err, and neither can afford that now.

Maybe, in another time, another place, they would be wrong for each other. But here, at the end of all things, all that matters is that they are together, and that togetherness makes them forget. They hide together from the dawn, and the terror that it will bring, and they hide from the present, from the night that lurks outside the door. Tomorrow, things will be different, and both will go out and fight, nothing on their minds but staying alive. And if, by chance, they fail to return? If the one is killed too soon, the world will descend into darkness. All that is good will fade with the passage of time. But even the darkness will fade eventually. A hundred thousand lifetimes from now, none of this will matter. So better to forget. Tonight, let them have their night of passion. Let them love, then let them sleep. Fate can wait until tomorrow.

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Short, I know. But it says what I wanted it to say. Please review. But NOT if you're going to tell me to make it longer. I'm kind of sick of hearing that.


	3. Bare Grace Misery

Disclaimer: I own nothing by Rowling and nothing by Nightwish.

A/N- As I said in my lookup, I'm incredibly sorry that this update came so much later than I promised. I really do apologize. In any case, I hope you enjoy.

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Bare Grace Misery

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_We're lucky, you know._

_Lucky? Why?_

_We're lucky to have a choice._

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Bella has always liked the arts. She likes to go to the ballet, thinks it is a sign of good taste. But, sometimes, it makes her jealous. She wishes she could dance like the girl on the stage. Her grace and poise is astounding. The girl is pretty, too, she has a wide-eyed and innocent look about her. It makes Bella laugh. It makes her laugh until she is sick. Sick with jealousy.

After the show, Bella sneaks backstage to the girl's dressing room. The rainbow of flowers that litter tiny room make her head spin. The girl is undressing, facing a full-length mirror on the wall. She sees Bella's reflection on its shining surface and turns around, her movement graceful and elegant, even in her fear. Bella's curse hits her before she so much as has a chance to call out. The girl falls, as graceful in death as she was in life, her pretty dark hair flowing and her lovely green eyes flat and empty.

Bella loves the arts, but she never did like being jealous.

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_What choice? I don't feel as if I have any choices anymore._

_The choice to live or die._

_-_

A little girl stands on a street corner, shivering violently. The cold, bitter air has stolen the feeling from her hands. She tries to revive them, by rubbing them together, but they remain numb. 'Where is my mother?' she calls to the passerby. 'Have you seen my mother?' Her voice is shaky, barely audible. She coughs, convulsing violently, and hacks up something pinkish. The people on the street make a wide berth around her, turning their faces away.

Night is setting in now, and the little girl is beginning to tire. Lonely and dejected, she slumps to the ground, leaning up against the building behind her. She is so hungry and so cold, but her fatigue outweighs both feelings, and it is not long before she slips into sleep, the cold stone at her back her only pillow. The light-shadows of dreams flicker across her conscious. A lady, soft and warm, strokes her soft brown braids. When, five minutes to midnight, the building at her back is blown up in a Death Eater attack, she doesn't feel her body tearing apart. From the cold or from starvation, it matters not which, she is already dead.

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_Sometimes I don't want to live. But I don't want to die either. I'm afraid._

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Lucius Malfoy is not a religious man. Still, somehow he finds himself here, kneeling at the base of an altar to a saint he doesn't even know the name of. He doesn't know any prayers, he doesn't even really know what a person is meant to say when they pray. He supposes it depends on what you're praying for, but he can't exactly put a name to his prayer. He knows he's too far gone for Heaven, he's committed far too many sins. But he doesn't believe in Hell, not really. If he believed in eternal punishment for sinning, he never would have killed in the first place. Malfoys believe in self-preservation, and setting oneself up for an eternity of damnation doesn't exactly hold to those beliefs.

Alright, then. He isn't praying for salvation, nor forgiveness, really. He has no regrets, wants nothing more for himself. So what _does_ he pray for? He would pray for his wife's spirit, but where's the sense in that? No point in praying for the dead. There's no changing their fate. But he doesn't truly care for anyone, if not his wife. Except his son, of course, only he doesn't like to admit that. He's supposed to have disowned the boy five years ago. But you're meant to be able to talk to God about anything. Perhaps, then, that's who his prayers are for. The boy-child who is no longer his.

_Don't let him die alone. He whom I have forsaken, let him know that I did love him. Let him know that, in the end, he will always be my son._

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_It's alright, you know. Or it will be, in the end._

_How do you know?_

_I don't. But doesn't it sound nice to say that?_

_That's not what you were supposed to say. You're supposed to be confident._

_Yeah, well. I'm supposed to be a lot of things._

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Voldemort is in a good mood tonight. He can feel a change in the winds. He can sense success. It is throbbing, pulsating in the air, so much so that he can almost taste it. He twirls his wand between his fingers and marvels at the raw strength he feels emanating from within himself. The fates are on his side tonight, and he knows it.

'Lucius.' he calls. 'There has been a change in plans. We attack at dawn.'

'But my Lord! How can we possibly-'

'Do _not_ question me. Notify the others. Let them prepare to fight.'

'Yes, my Lord.'

Voldemort smiles. Tomorrow will be a day to remember.

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_I'm sorry._

_For what?_

_For everything._

_You shouldn't be. I love you._

_I know. It's just... I love you too._

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In case you were confused, this is set the evening before the Final Battle, all at more or less the same time. The parts in italics are Harry and Draco speaking. They alternate, every other line, starting out with Harry.

Please review!

ConCrit is GoodCrit


	4. 10th Man Down

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter , nor do I own any Nightwish songs or lyrics.

A/N: At first I really wasn't pleased with this piece at all. It wasn't anything like what I envisioned. But it's grown on me, and now I think it fits the song quite nicely. In any case, I love this song, especially the refrain. Hope you enjoy.

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10th Man Down

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It's best not to think, I tell myself as I feel their lives slip away. Many of them are only children, people who were in school while I was, in younger years. Some of them were even in my classes. I know them all, have seen their faces before. No killing of strangers for me, never. But does it truly make a difference? In those last moments, when you see the life fade from a person's eyes, you know them more intimately than anyone else ever could.

I used to think of them as people. Once I would have cried for their deaths, felt pain for their loved ones' loss. But now, now I like to think I'm doing them a favor. Better to die now, at my hands, than to live to see all their friends and family fall around them, to have their hearts stained by the deaths of those they love. We are all dying, in this wretched war. Better sooner than later, that's what I say.

I don't feel responsible for them anymore, for anyone anymore. But still I keep going, as if on autopilot, because I don't know what else to do. And through all this, miraculously, I still maintain some semblance of survival instinct. When they come at me with their wands draw, I still find it in me to kill them all, to save my own sorry skin. Yet, with each of their deaths, I feel a part of myself die too. Their broken souls pave my pathway to Hell.

I know the other Order members worry about me. But I know, too, that they will never fail to turn away and pretend that I'm alright. Because that's what they need to believe. We all believe what we need to, and shield our eyes from the truth. It's ironic, really, because, despite the tragedy and suffering around me, I'm happier than I've ever been. Happiness is the absence of sorrow, and when you feel no pain, you cannot be sad. So I keep going, unfeelingly, without complaint, until I simply stop. Not because I've committed some foolish act of suicide, no. I'm as good as dead already, why bother to make it official? But one day I'm bound to fall.

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Reviews are appreciated.


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